What Not To Do
by CheeseyCraziness
Summary: Roy is ordered to send a letter to a new subordinate of his, explaining what it's like to be working under him. He makes a list of things you probably shouldn't do, if you want to live long. Prepare to laugh. RoyaiEdWin expected.


(A/N) Heh. I need something humorous to write, and maybe this will do the trick. Let's have fun, shall we not? –Cheeseycraziness

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!**

Prologue: The Letter

The phone rang, but nobody made any move to pick it up. Roy Mustang was draped over his desk, thoroughly depressed with the combination of hot, humid air and the rainfall outside.

"Sir," said Hawkeye, "Pick it up."

"Why?" he groaned.

"Sir," she repeated. This time she brought out her trusty gun, and aimed it squarely in the middle of his forehead. She clicked the safety off. "Pick it up."

Mustang blinked, confused, and then gulped. He straightened immediately, and picked up the phone.

"This is Lieutenant Colonel Mustang speaking."

"Mustang, this is King Bradley.

"What-oh! Sorry. Hello, sire."

"I'm informing you that a soldier has been promoted, and may join you in the office sometime soon, perhaps a day or two from now. I want you to write a letter to them, explaining their new duties and what to expect every day. I want it done by today, if you can."

"I will start on it right now, Your Excellency."

"Many thanks." And he hung up with a click.

Roy put the receiver down, hung up, and groaned, with his hands on his head. "How the heck am I supposed to write a letter to a new recruit?"

"Don't go asking me," Hawkeye replied, not even looking up from her papers.

And Mustang groaned again. "Ri-za…" he whined.

"Stop, sir."

"Riiiiii-za…"

"No, sir."

"Please?" he said, his voice squeaking.

"This is your problem, not mine, sir."

Roy Mustang scowled like a child who didn't have his candy. He got out a piece of paper and took a pen out.

And after a few minutes of thought, he started writing.

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!**

_Dear Sir or Ma'am:_

_Hello! Welcome to the lucky group of subordinates that work directly under me, the famous Flame Alchemist, Colonel Roy Mustang. As of now, I am directly responsible for your actions, so you'd better not screw up._

_Let's start with the more serious, regulated part of this letter._

_I am sure by now you fully understand that with this higher pay and more luxurious lifestyle, there comes a price. You are expected to come to office at or before 0800 hours every day. You must fill out all paperwork, complete all assignments given to you, and help out your fellow soldiers when they need it. You are directly responsible for your subordinates in the same way I am for mine. Try not to cause too many catastrophes, and help clean up any you come across, and you might find yourself on the way to promotion. If you do things the other way around, you might find yourself on the way to demotion. Any crime committed will immediately boot you out of the military._

_Do your duty well._

_Okay, now that that's done with, let's tell you a few things about my _specific _group of subordinates. We do things a little differently than the rest of the military. You may have noticed that I called my personal group of subordinates very lucky. You may have wondered why. Well, let's go with this: of all the spots in the military that they could have gotten, they got the spots they have now. They are working in one of the most carefree environments in the military. We get our work done, and then we have fun all day long. We're like a big family, in some ways. We tease each other, we laugh with each other, heck, we even sometimes eat dinner with each other at somebody's house, and it's just all-around fun._

_You are now going to be part of this little family. I think you'll like it._

_Now, as for who is in our little family… I'll give you a physical description of everybody. That way you can recognize them. I'll also give you a short what-they-do type explanation._

_Firstly, there's Elric. Most of us call him Ed, short for Edward, though I like calling him FullMetal – that is, of course, his Alchemist name. He's the FullMetal alchemist. I'm sure you've heard of him. He's very short, with blonde hair in a braid. He's 15, I think. He doesn't wear armor. Remember that._

_Next, we have Hawkeye. She'll be the stoic blonde woman. She's a sharpshooter, a sniper, whatever you want to call it._

_Then there's Hughes. Hughes is the tall guy with black hair, glasses, and this irritating nature of his that switched back and forth from serious to just plain irritatingly happy. I think you get the idea._

_Havoc is the also-tall guy with blonde hair. He'll be the one smoking._

_There's Falman, Fuery, and Breda too, but really, they're not worth describing. Nice guys, but a lesser part of the family than those I've already told you about. You'll meet them._

_Finally, there's me, Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist! Hooray! I'm the one with the black hair, but I don't wear glasses. I'm also the one you directly report to, so even if you don't know the rest of us, you'd better get to know me._

_Now, I could just go on to tell you about our personalities, but that'll just take too long. How about this? I'll give you a What-Not-To-Do list. That's perfect. You'll need it if you want to survive. It's not in any particular order, but you should memorize it, okay? And trust me – you don't want to know what happens if you do all this stuff. You don't want to know at all. I have personal experience, here._

_Do not…_

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!**

(A/N) Well? Good so far? Because here's the first thing on the list.

Each one will be accompanied by a short story of some catastrophe or other that happened when somebody, Roy or another person, decided to do the specified item of the list. Yay!

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!**

_One: Assume that FullMetal is the guy in the armor suit. He is not. He is the short one standing next to said guy in the armor suit._

Roy Mustang was parking his car. He had arrived at headquarters, and he was late. Hawkeye would kill him. He sighed. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and this was one of those check-in days of FullMetal's. It was the last thing he needed, really. First his subordinate would yell at him like crazy. Then his other subordinate would report to him, and end up yelling at him like crazy by the end of the report. Mustang had a feeling that today would be the day he went deaf.

He was rubbing his ears already.

As he walked up toward the building, he looked up see FullMetal, a few paces ahead.

Edward Elric walked up to the guards and announced, "FullMetal Alchemist, coming through."

The guards were new guards. Oh, no.

"FullMetal Alchemist?" one repeated. "_The_ FullMetal Alchemist? No way."

"You're seriously him? No wonder, they gave you that name," the other guard muttered.

Of course, they were both looking, in awe, at Al. Ed was beginning to turn a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"Wow! I heard you just twelve, or something, when you passed the alchemy exam!"

"Can we see you do something, sir? I hear you can just clap your hands, and poof!"

"Yeah, that must be really cool!"

"Can you make a statue of me? Please?"

The scarlet color of Ed's face turned somewhat purple. Ed clapped his hands, and laid them on the ground. In moments, a gigantic stone arrow was pointing straight at the pair of guards. Engraved in the arrow were the words "First Class Idiots" and the guards looked up in awe.

"Wow."

"That is so cool!"

"Did you even clap your hands? I didn't see it."

It occurred to Ed and Al that they could not see the engraved words, as the words were engraved on the sides of the arrow, not the bottom. Looking up would only show the pointy part of the arrow, from where they stood.

Ed's purple face turned puce.

"**YOU IMBECILES! HE'S NOT THE FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST! I AM! I'M THE ONE WHO CLAPPED MY HANDS! I'M THE ONE WHO PASSED THE STATE ALCHEMIST TEST! NOT HIM! HE'S JUST MY BROTHER! I'VE HAD IT!"** Ed clapped his hands, put them down, and the arrow twisted into the form of a giant statue of Ed sticking his tongue out. The guards were huddled together and shaking in fear.

"C'mon Al, let's move."

"Okay, brother…" Al said, unnerved. Ed somehow dragged him inside. Roy Mustang, with a salute to the still-shaking guards (who didn't even notice) walked in right behind them, trying not to laugh.

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!**


End file.
